


Finding the sun

by Kitacular



Series: More than Brothers [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5426318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitacular/pseuds/Kitacular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aramis is injured at Île de Ré and it causes two Musketeers to examine how they feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding the sun

October 1622

Aramis fingered the bandage on his shoulder and huffed. He much preferred it when he did the stitching rather than watching someone else removing musket balls from his flesh. It was a nice clean job, though. He couldn't really complain. He could still wiggle his fingers. Aramis wasn't new to combat injuries. Only last year he'd been stabbed in the side. That had been a much more dangerous injury. Why had this injury upset and worried him so much? What was it he was suddenly afraid of losing?

He felt eyes on him and glanced toward the doorway of the tent he was laying in. It was Porthos. The tall, hulking dark skinned man that had joined the regiment from the infantry only a few months ago. He crossed to the cot on which Aramis lay in six long strides. He grasped Aramis' hand quickly and dropped it almost immediately. Porthos glared at the bandage darkly before looking intensely into Aramis' eyes.

"Alright?" he asked gruffly.

"'tis but a scratch my dear fellow," answered Aramis lightly. "Didn't even have to do my own stitching! Will you sit with me a while, friend?"

Porthos glanced around the tent and turned on his heel. He left just as quickly as he entered without another word. Aramis frowned.

 

 

February 1623

"I tire of this, Porthos. I thought we were friends."

Porthos looked up from cleaning his pistol to see Aramis stood, looking uncharacteristically stern.

"It was bound to 'appen sooner or later. See you around," Porthos grunted, standing up and walking around the table. Aramis met him at the end of the long bench and gripped his arm.

"I don't know what is wrong with you since Île de Ré but you've barely looked at me. What is it? You've been in battles in the infantry before. Don't tell me you're only now realising what is to be a Musketeer. We're brothers in this regiment, Porthos. Lean on me if you want," Aramis said low and urgent.

"You've got no idea what I realised that day," Porthos muttered, pulling his arm from Aramis' grasp. Aramis watched, confused, as Porthos strode from the yard.

 

 

Porthos woke to a hammering on his door. Pulling the door open he was resigned to find Aramis in his doorway.

"Why are you here, Aramis? We're not brothers. We're just soldiers."

Aramis didn't reply and simply pushed past Porthos into his small quarters. Porthos sighed, scenting wine on him as he passed.

"You don't get to make that decision for me, Porthos. Do you think so little of me that once I've chosen a person to be part of my life I would let them leave it so easily? I won't do that again. I've already lost someone I loved because I just let them walk away. I won't do it again. I won't let you walk away from me without knowing why!" Aramis said loudly, swaying where he stood.

Porthos sighed and dropped heavily into his chair by the fire.

"You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not special. There's plenty of people in the regiment you can be friends with. They're all your brothers. You get on plenty well with Marsac," Porthos muttered to his hands.

"They're not all you, Porthos. You don't get to tell me who to be friends with. How dare you try and remove someone from my life! You think I'm so weak willed I'd just watch someone walk away?"

"I'm still 'ere. Just don't see the need to cry about it. You and I aren't... We're not... We're just soldiers."

"I won't do it again, Porthos. I won't do it again! I won't lose another one," Aramis shouted, swaying where he stood. Porthos groaned in frustration and stood up.

"You don't get it, do you? I'm not special. I'm not some excellent soldier. I'm not some 'igh-born noble person. I'm not worthy of you!" Porthos shouted back. "Ya know, the Musketeers. Not worthy of the Musketeers," he added quietly. Aramis swayed again and gripped the taller man's shirt. Porthos held on to Aramis' arms to hold him steady and was startled to notice tears in Aramis' unfocussed eyes.

"Don't take another one from me, please," Aramis whispered. "I can't do it again, Porthos, please."

Porthos tightened his grip on Aramis' arms and pulled him against his chest. Out of pure instinct he dipped his head and pressed his lips against those of Aramis. Aramis jumped in surprise and immediately felt Porthos let go of his arms and step away. He touched the tip of his finger to his lips and stared in shock at Porthos. The darker man was stood stock still and staring at a point above Aramis' head on the wall. The silence felt heavy in the room. Aramis stared at the immobile form of Porthos for what felt like an age while a hundred thoughts tried to work their way through his wine addled brain in mere seconds.

Aramis stepped forwards and closed the distance between himself and Porthos. Porthos simply stood rigid, his own mind swirling, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He didn't see the second kiss coming.

Aramis studied Porthos' face for a long few seconds and quickly gripped that same face, pulling it to his own and pressing his lips against those of his stoic friend. Before Porthos had a chance to register what had just happened, Aramis had turned on his heel and swept out of the building, into the night.

 

 

Porthos entered the garrison nervously the next morning. His eyes swept the yard and, as was his habit, found Aramis in a heartbeat. He was already duelling with one of the older soldiers, hand on his hip, being coached on a new move. Porthos looked around to find something to occupy his time, to keep him as far away from Aramis as possible. His plans were scuppered, however, when Aramis circled his opponent and saw Porthos across the yard. Porthos breathed an inward sigh of relief when he saw Aramis' face lit up by that beaming smile. He couldn't help, however, the bundle of nerves that built up as Aramis swaggered over to him.

"So you **do**  like me then, Porthos?" Aramis asked in a whisper, linking his arm through Porthos' and leading him back to where he'd been training. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Won't happen again. Don't harp on about it though, eh?"

"Dine with me tonight before you make such decisions please, my friend?" Aramis asked, raising his eyebrows and squeezing Porthos' arm. Porthos nodded mutely. Aramis' face broke into a wide smile and he returned to his duel, wheeling about with a spring in his step and a smile on his lips.

 

 

Aramis leant back on his bench in the tavern, eyes flicking constantly to the door. Would Porthos come? Had he been too pushy? Had he read Porthos correctly? Was he even reading himself correctly? Aramis shifted his weight to the side, trying to find the most casual pose. He could feel himself getting tenser as the time passed. He had to keep convincing himself not to use the wine to fortify himself. He needed to concentrate this time. He heard the door open and knew before he looked it was Porthos. By the time Aramis looked up, Porthos was already walking over. Aramis took a deep breath.

"Alright?" Porthos grunted as he sat down opposite Aramis.

"Better now," Aramis answered quietly. He reached out to take Porthos' hand. "I'd been getting nervous you wouldn't show in all honesty."

"Why am I here, Aramis?" Porthos asked, pulling his hand back. "If you were gonna' report me to the Captain you would 'ave done it already," he sighed.

"Report you? For what? For doing what I didn't have the courage to do until I was drunk? For doing what I did and then turned away from? I was a coward, Porthos. You were not. You had the courage to," Aramis paused and looked around the crowded tavern. "You had the courage to take the shot. I waited to... take the shot until I could be sure where it was coming from."

"I should never 'ave... taken that shot," Porthos replied quietly. "I... it was wrong."

"You grew up in the Court, Porthos. You and I both know the reality of a.. gunfight.. is not what society thinks. One simply has to shoot the person you need to, not just the person people hundreds of miles away think you're supposed to." Aramis searched Porthos' face to see if he was following.

"Walk with me," Porthos said suddenly, rising from the table. Aramis followed uncertainly. Since Porthos' quarters were in the garrison, they walked to Aramis' chambers in silence. They sank into chairs by the hearth and stared without speaking for several long minutes.

"Since I fired the first shot, let me speak," Porthos said at last. Aramis lifted his head and smiled. Porthos felt his stomach instantly unclench at that smile. "You're right. In the Court things are less.. proper. They don't believe in marriage of convenience and God isn't felt as deeply there. You know laws of property are not as important there and, well, nor are the laws of... nature. They believe in whatever gets you through the day and whatever gets you through the night. When you live in the dark and the disease, you learn to accept sunlight when you find it." Porthos looked up at Aramis to find him listening intently, smiling. Emboldened, Porthos continued.

"I fought so hard to become a Musketeer. I took to soldiering in the infantry like I was born for it. When I got my commission it was the 'appiest day of my life. I never dreamed..." Porthos sighed. "I met you. I felt like an outsider still. I had to fight so hard and prove myself over and over for my place in the regiment. You made me feel like I belonged. It fit. You fit. Every time I shared a joke, a fight, a drink with you. Your smile became my sunshine," he finished quietly.

Aramis waited a beat but it had seemed Porthos had run out of things to say. It was pleasant to hear his normally taciturn friend open up.

"Let me return fire," said Aramis quietly. Porthos chuckled and nodded at Aramis.

"Before I joined the military I was in love. I was 16 and I loved a girl. Isabelle her name was. She fell pregnant and I was overjoyed. I planned to marry her. She then, however, lost the baby. Her father sent her away and I was never told where she was. I always regretted letting them send her away. I didn't fight for her. I was just told she was gone," Aramis paused and looked up at Porthos. He was watching Aramis in silence. Porthos nodded encouragingly at Aramis. "I escaped that life. My parents always wanted me to be a priest. I suppose when Isabelle was sent away they hoped I would continue in that path. I, however, did not. I joined the military and never looked back. I found solace and freedom in putting it all on the line every day. I find it easy to get along with people. I don't, however, make friends. I don't trust easily. Not since Isabelle. Like you, however, I found.. we fit," he finished simply.

Porthos nodded but seemed unable to form words so Aramis continued.

"I think I speak for us both when I say that neither of us felt like we had value. That the risk of dying was worth taking because there was so little to lose. I don't know about you but when I took that musket ball I realised that there are things to live for in the world. It took me a while to work out what had changed. I didn't feel that way at Montauban. Then in these months when you have pulled further and further away, I realised... The sun was going out." Aramis leaned over and placed his hand on Porthos' knee.

"Aramis.." Porthos began. He sat silently for a moment, looking at Aramis' hand. After a few minutes he clasped Aramis'. After taking a deep breath, he raised their joined hands to his face and kissed Aramis' palm. He watched Aramis' face break into a huge smile and Porthos laughed. Aramis raised his eyebrow.

"Every time you smile it lights up the room, Aramis. On my first day with the Musketeers I saw you smile and it was like the sun breaking from behind a cloud. It's how I always think of you. You are the sunshine in my dark world, Aramis. I can't abide the idea of that light going out."

"I **love** you, Porthos," whispered Aramis earnestly. Porthos stood, pulling Aramis up as he did so.

"I love you too, Aramis," Porthos replied quietly. They wrapped their arms around each other and stood together for a long time.

"What do we do now, my friend?" asked Porthos quietly against Aramis' shoulder.

"We go back to life, Porthos. I don't think either of us is willing to risk their future in the Musketeers are we?" Aramis asked. He felt Porthos shake his head against him. "This is enough, brother. We can enjoy our love without acting upon it. We ride together, we laugh together. We can love each other without..."

" **Loving** each other?" Porthos asked. Aramis laughed and felt the answering chuckle deep within Porthos' chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts and requests always welcome at kitacularao3 at gmaildotcom :D


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